


Heels and High Kicks

by MajorTrouble



Series: Team Bingo Bongo for BIKM Bingo! [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aiden in heels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BIKM Bing Fill - #59 Kick, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings Realization, Lambert definitely has a transactional view of the universe, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorTrouble/pseuds/MajorTrouble
Summary: Kick:1: a blow or sudden forceful thrust with the foot2 : a sudden forceful jolt or thrust3:a : a powerful or forceful effectb : a stimulating or pleasurable effect or experiencec : pursuit of an absorbing or obsessive new interest
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Series: Team Bingo Bongo for BIKM Bingo! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126874
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Heels and High Kicks

They’re in the middle of a bar fight when he notices for the first time. Aiden is throwing punches, same as him, but he also lashes out with a well-placed kick, dropping the guy who’d been sneaking up behind him with a solid shot to the gut. 

Lambert doesn’t think he’s seen that type of style before. It’s one that utilizes his whole body. It’s fascinating to watch as the taller man moves with an agility that is beyond graceful, using fists and elbows, knees and feet, to take down their opponents. He nearly gets decked he’s so distracted, now that he’s truly noticed it. 

But now he can’t stop noticing it. 

When they fight side-by-side, silver swords in hand, Aiden is more conservative, more contained with his movements. He spins and lashes out with his sword, using his legs to move quickly, maintaining balance and precision. He still dances around his opponents, ducking and weaving in and out of their reach. It’s only when he’s weaponless, sword knocked from his hands, or brawling in the middle of a tavern, grin splitting his face and eyes gleaming with glee and mischief, that he kicks out, catching his enemies unawares.

Lambert doesn’t know what to do with this information. The more he watches, the more he can see how it suits the other man. His slim, lithe body twists with such grace and agility that it seems completely natural for him to use every part of his body. And Lambert can’t stop watching him. On several occasions Lambert nearly gets his teeth knocked in because he’s staring at the long line of Aiden’s leg as it catches someone in the chin or chest. 

He contemplates asking the other man to teach him. Like how he’s taught Lambert to fight with daggers in close quarters, to spin and duck and throw the sharp knives with ease. But somehow watching Aiden fight, the dark skin of his knuckles splitting open, his chocolate brown curls bouncing as he moves. 

Then, the next time they run across each other, something is different. Lambert can’t quite put his finger on it as he stalks across the tavern and drops into the seat across from the Cat Witcher, but the twitch of the other’s lip lets him know something is amiss. 

Or he’s just fucking with the Wolf, as he’s wont to do. 

“Always nice to see you, Little Wolf,” Aiden drawls, swirling the dregs of his ale around the bottom of his mug. “Been a while.”

Lambert doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes as he unslings his swords and props them up against the table. “Not that long,” he grumbles. Glancing around the densely packed room, he huffs out a breath in obvious frustration. “Too many fucking _people_ here.”

“Mmmhmm. What should we do about it?” Aiden’s smirking at him now and something brushes up against his calf under the table. Lambert resists the impulse to jerk back in surprise, instead looking up to meet Aiden’s eyes, scowling. Aiden’s grin widens. 

They stare at each other for a few minutes before Lambert drops his gaze to the tabletop and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing out a breath.

“No rooms left. I was thinking of trying my luck out in the woods, but then I saw your fancy face and thought I’d be polite,” he growls. He refuses to look up as Aiden barks a sharp laugh. “What? I can be fucking polite.”

“Hey now, I didn’t say anything,” Aiden holds his hands up placatingly. “But, it so happens that I have a room. If you want to stay out of the cold.”

It’s Lambert’s one real, true weakness. He hates the cold. And the frosts had been beginning to set in. He’d been dreading going back out into the woods to spend another night shivering on the hard-packed earth, not actually sleeping, to arise bleary-eyed and angry tomorrow morning. The town boasted a bath house that he’d taken full advantage of, soaking for as long as he could in the blessedly hot water before heading to the inn. It was probably one of the reasons he’d come too late to get a room. 

He risks a glance up at Aiden, but the other Witcher is drawing shapes in the spilled beer on the rough wood of the table with his long, elegant fingers. “And if I do?” he asks slowly. “Want to share a room? What do you want?” He knows nothing comes without a price. Aiden would be no different in this regard.

Something flashes across the other Witcher’s face, too fast for Lambert to parse it, but it looks almost like hurt. Or anger. Aiden shrugs. “You pay for food. I get to enjoy your company, as sweet as it is.” 

Lambert snorts. It’s not really a decision, when he thinks about it. “Ya, fine sure.”

He pays for some decent tasting stew, complete with hunks of only slightly stale bread. They eat in a companionable sort of way, catching up on contracts and fights they’ve had over the past four months. Lambert still can’t shake the niggling feeling that he’s missing something, but he relaxes into the easy banter the two of them have developed over the years they’ve known each other. 

When they’ve finished eating, Lambert gathers their bowls and tankards and heads back to the bar. He drops them on the bar top and nods at the innkeeper before heading back to their table, intent on getting his things and sleeping in an actual bed.

As he approaches, Aiden stands up and Lambert feels his mouth go dry. The Witcher is already taller than him by a few inches, but now he practically towers by a full head. He feels his mouth working like he means to say something, but no words come out. 

Aiden leans down to whisper in his ear. “Cat got your tongue, Little Wolf?” Lambert feels a bolt of heat shoot through him and the tiniest whine escapes his throat. Aiden smirks as he steps back, shouldering Lambert’s swords and turning around, heading for the stairs. 

It takes several seconds for Lambert’s limbs to cooperate enough for him to follow. He practically scrambles up the stairs and it’s then that he notices the boots the other man has on. They’re sturdy brown leather, laced tightly to slim calves, and polished to a dull shine. And they have a raised heel, enhancing the Witcher’s height by several inches. 

He licks his lips, trying desperately to remember how to breathe. Why is he so turned on by this?

They make it to Aiden’s room, the other Witcher taking his time unlocking the door and ushering Lambert inside, carefully setting his swords down as Lambert closes the door. The shorter man suddenly finds himself crowded against the wood, Aiden’s hands on his chest, slipping underneath the edges of his leather armour. 

“Oh Little Wolf. What has you in such a mood?” He grins down at Lambert, who can feel the flush creeping up his cheeks and tingeing his ears. “Do you like my new boots? I’ve noticed you watching me. I can be very _observant_.” He punctuates this last word by shoving his thigh between Lambert’s and grinding it against the bulge straining against Lambert’s trousers. 

Lambert bucks against him, snarling as he reaches up to fist his hands in the straps on the front of Aiden’s armour. He drags the other man’s face down to him, kissing the smirk off his lips and pressing himself more firmly into the leather clad thigh. He welcomes AIden’s tongue into his mouth, sucking firmly on the muscle and reveling in the moan he makes. 

Then he pushes against him, forcing Aiden back and away, opening up a few feet of space between them. He stares at the taller man, brows furrowed, nearly scowling at the amused expression on Aiden’s face. 

Nothing comes without a price.

“What do you want, Aiden?” he asks carefully. He waits, watching as the amusement fades into something else, and feels resigned. 

That is, until Aiden presses back into his space, cupping his hands around his cheeks and forcing him to look the other Witcher in the eye. “I know you’re not going to fucking believe me right now, and maybe not for a long time, but I just want you. No strings attached. No tally of favours. Just one night.”

Lambert stares at him, chewing on his lip as he weighs his words. He wants to take Aiden at face value, but there’s always some part of him that tells him that nothing good ever comes without a price. Look what happened when he finally got away from his father. Look what happened when he finally made a friend at Kaer Morhen. 

He doesn’t want this to be taken away from him, too. But maybe, just for tonight, he can take what Aiden’s offering and damn the consequences. 

He nods and watches as Aiden’s face lights up, green cat-slit eyes going dark with a promise of things to come. He reaches up, almost tentative, and brushes his fingers against the surprisingly soft brown skin of Aiden’s cheek. 

No Witcher should have skin that soft. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it. 

“Good. Now let me see you.” It comes out as a purr and Lambert shivers. Aiden’s fingers are nimble as they pluck and pull at the fastenings of Lambert’s armour and piece by piece it drops away. His hands smooth along each new strip of skin as it’s exposed and Lambert’s mesmerized, stepping out of his boots and trousers before he knows it. Being touched, being worshipped by those long-fingered hands, is a revelation, and he’s dizzy with it. 

Some part of him thinks he should take back control. It screams at him for being so vulnerable, but he wills it away. Just one night. 

Aiden pulls him over to the bed, pushing him down to sit on the edge so he can sit in Lambert’s lap. Instinctively, Lambert raises his hands to smooth up the expanse of Aiden’s back, feeling the muscles flex under the soft material of his shirt and when did he take his own armour off? Aiden leans down to claim his mouth again and all thought leaves him. Only that sensation of skin on skin, the slide of their lips together, the soft pleased sounds the Cat makes as his hands drag down his spine. 

Deft fingers scratch through the hair on his scalp, tugging lightly at the short strands and Lambert would be embarrassed at the moan he makes if he cared anymore. He feels Aiden’s lips twist up into another grin. He grinds down into Lambert’s lap and his moan turns into a whine as he rubs against him.

Strong hands push on his shoulders, forcing him to lay backwards on the bed and he goes willingly. Aiden straddles him, still clothed in tight leather pants and Lambert can’t help but reach up and squeeze his ass, thumbing at the crease. He’s rewarded as Aiden leans down, biting kisses along his collarbone and dragging his nails down his flanks.

Lambert lets out another shocked groan, arching up into the contact. Gods, he’s never felt this good. Aiden’s hands press and squeeze at his chest, flicking at his nipples and making him writhe on the bed. His mouth seems to find every hidden place on Lambert’s body - under his ear, along his ribs, right at the top of his hip - where he’s most sensitive. His cock flexes and leaks between them, still trapped in his braies. Aiden is a musician and he plays Lambert’s body with such care, such precision, Lambert is ready to come just from the first ghosting touch of fingertips against the head of his cock through the fabric.

“Aiden,” he breathes, eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold onto some semblance of control lest he fly apart at the seams. He’s barely touched the other man, his hands resting on his hips like he’s holding on for dear life. “Please, Aiden.” He has no idea what he’s begging for, but it elicits a honey-sweet chuckle from the other man.

“Gonna howl for me, Little Wolf?” Aiden says, and he’s moving away, sliding down between Lambert’s legs. Lambert makes a small sound of disappointment that gets choked off as the fabric of his braies is pulled down and the head of his cock is engulfed in warm heat. He opens his eyes and meets Aiden’s, the other man’s mouth wrapped around him as he sucks at the crown. His other hand, wrapped around the rest of his shaft, moves in a languid motion that is soon driving him mad. But he dares not move. 

Aiden slowly sinks further down, inch by inch, clever tongue pressing against the thick vein that runs up the bottom of the shaft before swirling around the head. He hollows his cheeks, sucking and swallowing and Lambert feels like he’s going to die. He reaches down, cards his hands through Aiden’s hair and only has a moment to revel in the softness of the strands as the pleasure builds. His cock bumps the back of Aiden’s throat and he tightens his hand in warning, but the other man only hums and sucks harder and Lambert’s back bows as he comes. Aiden swallows like a man starving, green eyes glittering.

When Lambert drops back to the mattress, his limbs feel heavy, like he’s fought a particularly tough contract. He barely registers Aiden arranging his braies and then sliding back up the mattress to lay beside him, stroking his hand down his chest in a soothing motion. When he stops panting like someone who’s just discovered their cock for the first time, he turns onto his side, reaching up to cup Aiden’s cheek. 

“Do you want me to - “ he starts but Aiden shakes his head.

“It’s alright. This is about you. Like I said, no tally, no favours.” Aiden’s face is open and sincere. 

Lambert kisses him, slow and sweet, and believes for one moment that he can have this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for reading!! These have been so fun to write <3


End file.
